


End of the Line

by TruebornAlpha



Series: The Christmas Caper [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Detective Noir, Detective Stiles, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mobsters, Murder Mystery, Singer Scott, Teen Wolf AU, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the dangerous criminal mastermind Theo Raeken steadily closes in on them, Detective Stiles and his homme fatale, Scott McCall decide that the only way to beat him is to surrender. However their plans quickly go awry, and Stiles is left wondering who his true allies are.</p>
<p>Or, the last chapter of that Sciles detective noir fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of the Line

Theo Raeken was not a man who was often caught unawares. He’d clawed his way through New York’s food chain with a single-minded determination not luck, destroying the empires of men who’d spent their entire lives playing the game. He’d reached his throne with ruthlessness and resourcefulness, and took great pride in the thoroughness of his plans, so when someone, some fool who couldn’t see beyond the end of his bottle stole his most prized possession, he was livid. Stilinski had succeeded in becoming a thorn in his side, and Theo had left the two-bit gumshoe breathing the last time they met. He wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

He’d already expended his resources. He knew Stilinski and his wayward pet were still somewhere in the city. It was only a matter of time until they were flushed out. When his phone rang, he’d expected progress. He still wasn’t prepared to hear Scott’s voice on the line, soft like it was a hundred miles away. Everything ground to a halt.

“Theo…? Theo please, are you there?”

The fear in his voice that grated on Theo’s nerves. No one was allowed to hurt Scott. He’d feared the worst when his men recounted the singer’s involvement in Stilinski’s escape, but it was good to know his pet wasn’t a complete fool. Disloyal perhaps, certainly disobedient, but Theo would teach him to be better. For now, it was a step in the right direction to know Scott was coming back to him, and soon, Scott would learn how dangerous it was to underestimate him.

“Scott? Are you alright? Where are you?”

Scott didn’t have to feign the exhaustion, voice crackling down the line with a genuine weariness. His words were measured and calm, but the defeat was obvious. “I’m in the Lower East Side. I-I don’t know… First Avenue? I’ve been walking a long time, I don’t know, Theo. I didn’t want to go with him, I just want to come home. Please?”

It was the way Scott’s voice broke on the quiet plea, Theo always loved it when he begged. “Stay where you are, I’ll come to get you. Just stay safe, Scott.”

“I-I will. Please take me home, Theo.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, my beautiful boy.”

Scott carefully placed the payphone back on the receiver and punched Stiles in the shoulder. “You’re making a face, stop.”

“I hate you having to do this. You shouldn’t have to go back to him.” He shivered against the bitterly cold wind that blew right through his overcoat, but inside he was still warm from the memory of Scott’s body pressed tight against his.

“If there was another way, we’d have found it. Go, you don’t have that much time to get into his room at the Plaza. It’s a little black leather bound book, I’ve seen it by his night table before. Get it and get out, I’ll give Theo the slip and meet you back at the apartment in two hours. Deal?”

Stiles grabbed Scott by his shirt collar and hauled him in for a rough kiss, and shivered when Scott gave back just as hard. “Stay safe, okay? Promise me that?”

“Only if you do too. Now go!” He shoved Stiles and turned back to the blustery street. It was a bleak sort of Christmas Eve, the sky full of clouds and darkening too early. The wind picked up again, the cold sharp enough to fill his lungs with icy needles. Even the bright lights of Christmas dimmed as the storm gathered overhead, threatening to bury the entire city in snow. He shivered on the street corner, a pathetic figure in what was left of the clothes he was taken in and little else. If it sold his story that his lips were blue and his hands were numb, it was a small price to pay. A bright flame of hope burned in his chest and that was enough to sustain him.

When the sleek black towncar pulled up beside him, he didn’t hesitate. Scott threw open the door and buried himself in the arms of the man waiting inside, shaking so hard his teeth were shattering. “Oh god, I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Shhhh…” Theo stroked a hand through Scott’s hair. “I’ve got you now, it’s all going to be okay.”

The door closed behind him with a snap.

Theo knew better, he really did, but Scott was in his arms, breathing hard as he fought for air with lungs filled with ice. This boy had always been his biggest weakness, and he treated him like he was made of glass now. Stilinski had left dark bruises around his wrists, and the marks on Scott’s throat made him  _angry_. With a careful hand, he turned Scott to face him, tracing blue-tinged lips, as he took in Scott’s sunken eyes and hallowed cheeks.

It looked like detective must have overestimated his charm, or underestimated Scott. Theo knew that ordinary locks wouldn’t have been enough to keep his lover’s obedience. He wouldn’t have expected Stilinski to be above starving him. 

“He can’t hurt you know.”

He watched Scott’s expression crumble, tears pooling on his lashes as the singer grit his jaw. He wore shame so prettily, but it warmed Theo’s heart to see his fury. Slowly, he wrapped a blanket around Scott’s shoulders, but his boy took some coaxing before he would lean against him. When Scott spoke, Theo almost missed it.

“He wanted me to get to you.” Scott swallowed thickly, bracing himself for a hit. Theo took great satisfaction in soothing away his worries. Now wasn’t the time for that. He knew Scott best. Having him come apart under his hands was proof. “He said you ruined his life and if I wanted to get out, I’d have to… I’m tired.”

Theo pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth. He felt Scott gasp against him and savored the moment Scott surrendered. “That’s it, baby. Tell me everything.”

Across the city, Stiles prayed his cab would go faster.

Funded by Scott’s stash, he’d taken the trains to Lexington. It was a risk, but better than dropping in closer. He had to bet that Theo couldn’t have men on every station. A quick cab ride should have taken care of the rest, but traffic was a nightmare this time of the year, and Stiles wasn’t convinced he shouldn’t have run the rest of the way, even in the cold. He was supposed to be beating a deadline. Every minute he wasted was another one with Scott at Theo’s mercy, and one less that he could spend hunting for the ledger. If he thought about that any longer, his skin would start crawling.

“I’ll double your fee if you get me to the Plaza in two minutes.”

Sneaking into the hotel was easier said than done, especially with a ticking clock hanging over his head. God knew what that monster was going to do to Scott. It surprised Stiles how much he cared and how rage beat against his skull to think of Raeken’s hands on Scott. Once they put him away for good, he would…he would do something. Maybe. His shabby appearance raised a few eyebrows in the lobby, but he managed to slip into an elevator before anyone stopped him up to the residential apartments.

A minute with a few small tools and Stiles managed to pop the lock, warily stepping into Theo’s lair. The place was even more lavish that Scott’s. It was clear Theo had a knack for collecting beautiful things. The entire place was empty, but Stiles didn’t let down his guard as he crept through the rooms. Even with the successes of The Chimera, there was no way a club owner could afford something like this. This was a testament to the bribes and the smuggling and the criminal syndicate at Theo’s fingertips. Here, he was the king of his empire. It was enough to make Stiles sick.

Scott had said he’d seen the ledger by the nightstand and Stiles paused only briefly in the doorway to the bedroom, scowling at the oversized king bed that dominated the middle of the room. He didn’t want to think about what kind of debauchery played out here every night. He made a dive for the night stand, yanking open the drawers and spilling everything to the floor. Panic set in as he rifled through the drawers in Theo’s dresser and tore through the closet. It wasn’t here! It had to be here. They didn’t have a plan B.

Stiles moved out into the living room, pulling up cushions and overturning furniture. Shit… it wasn’t here. Did Theo move everything to the club or worse, did he carry it with him? The door clicked open and Stiles froze as two hulking goons eased their way into the apartment, staring at Stiles with a stony expression as he stood in the middle of his mess.

“Wait a second, this isn’t my room.” He cracked as a Hail Mary, but the last thing he saw was a fist headed straight for his face.

 

Before he could even open his eyes, the detective was annoyed. It was really grating on Stiles’s nerves, how many times Theo’s cronies got the jump on him. If he could ever turn a profit on this justice thing, he’d consider buying his own bodyguards. For now, he was too busy dreaming about buying himself more time.

A glaring spotlight hung over head, and left stubborn stars prickling at the corner of his vision. The rest of the world took too long to swerve back into focus, but even then, Stiles could just barely make out the crates that lined the walls. Every time he moved his head, the little tap dancer in his skull protested. Stiles couldn’t move his arms or his legs, and the back of his mouth tasted like his own blood. He didn’t recognize the warehouse he’d been dragged to, but the dust that gathered across the floor told him no one was going to be interrupting this party any time soon.

The detective was almost ready to admit that he was more than annoyed. The voice that greeted him sold him completely.

“It’s about time you joined us, detective. Or Stilinski? I’m surprised you’re still going by that with how the last Detective Stilinski ended.”

Stiles had never spoken with Theo Raeken, but he recognized his voice immediately. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He didn’t know how people kept from punching the asshole the moment he opened his mouth. He was just as disgusting up close as he was from a distance, but Stiles bet that’d improve if he was looking at Theo through the bars of a prison cell. “I hope the boys didn’t rough you up too much, but you aren’t very good at blocking punches.”

“You’ll never get away with this, you sick son of a bitch. I have people looking for me, and when they find me, you’ll rot with the rest of your thugs in Sing Sing.” Stiles sneered through gritted teeth. It only made Theo’s razor-sharp smile darken.

“All I see is a desperate man who can’t accept that he’s already dead. Look around you. You’ve already lost.”

Stiles spit blood at Theo’s feet, but the man didn’t even move. “Come on now, detective, let’s at least be polite. Even your father knew when he was beaten and did the honorable thing.” Theo mimed putting a gun between his lips and grinned, slow and poisonous. “He wanted to do it himself instead of the alternative. It seems like you inherited all of his meddlesome snooping and none of the dignity.”

“You son of a bitch!” Stiles surged forward, but rough hands twisted around his arms and hauled him back to his knees.

Theo laughed, pulling Scott from the shadows and slipping his arm possessively around his waist. “See, pet? You should pick your friends more carefully.” 

The singer seemed distant, unresponsive to Theo’s touch with glassy, unfocused eyes that seemed to look straight through Stiles.

“Scott?” He croaked, earning another swift kick from Theo’s goons. This was all some kind of act, Scott wore each mask as easily as he breathed. It was still part of the plan, he’d gone back to Theo because he had to. That he’d gotten caught in Theo’s apartment was a miscalculation, the bad luck ending on a life of bad luck. They’d been outplayed, not betrayed. After all that time together, he knew what kind of man Scott McCall truly was. Scott would have never sold him out to Theo… right?

“I know exactly what you want.” Theo purred, reaching into the pocket inside his suit jacket. It wasn’t the only valuable Theo kept with him. Even in the dim light filtering in through the warehouse windows, the diamond sparkled in Theo’s fingers like a beacon. It glittered with broken rainbows, spilling a halo of light around their feet. Scott was captivated, Stiles saw the moment his eyes snapped into focus and knew that they had lost.

“The Wolf’s Heart, all this trouble for a diamond.” Theo brushed the hair from Scott’s forehead with a smile that was almost tender. “Maybe you should have been patient, I wasn’t going to give you your Christmas gift early but I suppose Christmas Eve is close enough.”

“It’s… mine?” Scott finally found his voice as Theo pressed the priceless treasure into his hand.

“It was always yours, Scott. You know I’d give you everything.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Theo watched him trace his prize with trembling hands, and when Scott turned to look at him, it was full of hope. Scott reached out slowly, his fingers brushing the back of his boss’s wrist like he was sure he’d be rebuffed. Theo made the decision for him, drawing him in. Scott went willingly, burying his face in Theo’s throat and inhaling deeply. Ever so slowly, he moved one arm to wrap around his boss’s waist, but Theo had already decided to allow him that much freedom. It was everything Theo wanted, and he savored the horror on Stilinski’s face. 

“Say you’ll wear it to bed for me.” He had half the mind to thank the detective for his intrusion. He’d reminded Theo not to take his boy for granted, pointed out all of Scott’s weaknesses and all the ways Theo could fix things. At the end of the day, Scott was nothing if not pragmatic and having him choose to stay warmed Theo with smug satisfaction. “But I need you to do one more thing for me.”

Scott moved his head at Theo’s command, unperturbed by Stiles’s vicious snarl, and his sickly pallor. Scott watched impassively as one of Theo’s lackeys raised a sawed of pipe and slammed it across the detective’s back.

Stiles yelled as the heavy pipe cracked along his spine, pain shooting through him as he was beaten. Ribs cracked under the assault and he could feel the sharp pieces constrict around his lungs. The edge of the pipe found his cheek and left his head ringing, dark spots dancing at the edges of his vision and threatening to swallow him down. Blood drooled past split lips and the only thing he could see was Scott’s dark eyes watching him coldly. “Scott, please…”

Theo’s pet turned away, nuzzling into his master’s neck. “Can we just go home now? I’m done with him.” He said in a voice as low and rich as chocolate. “I still have to give you your Christmas present. You’ve made your point, he’s not a threat.”

The rest of Scott’s speech was cut short as Theo kissed him. The singer melted against him, as eager and willing as he’d been when he’d shared a bed with Stiles and the detective couldn’t help the bloody snarl that twisted what was left of his face. “You know all you have to do is ask and I’d give you anything.  Let me just clean up here and I’ll take you home. We have some celebrating to do.”

Theo let him go and knelt by Stiles’s broken body, forcing his prisoner’s head up with a smile. “All of this could have been avoided if you just played by the rules, Stilinski. You should have known not to touch what was mine. I win… Say goodbye now. This is the last time you’ll be seeing him again.” 

His voice scraped across his ears, but the detective couldn’t look away from Scott’s retreating back. It felt like his heart had been carved out of his chest, and betrayal was underlined by the bitter bite of fear. Stiles wanted to blame everything on Theo because it was easier, but Theo hadn’t made him fall for someone who was too good to be true. He’d been tricked so many times, and he’d run out of excuses. Scott got his wish. Stiles hated him. 

Theo waited until the door closed behind his lover, before adding in a contemplative tone, “Of course I’ll have to teach him a lesson first. You’ve never heard him beg. You’ll never know how good he can be.”

Stiles snarled, cursing Theo with every ounce of energy he possessed, only to have defiance beaten out of him with metal and fists. Theo ordered his men to break him, left Stiles on his own two feet to take each hit. In the end, it wasn’t a fight at all. 

Theo wanted to be the one to end it.

“You’re dying, detective.” He whispered, aiming his gun for the center of Stiles’s belly. There was no rush now. “It’s truly been a pleasure. Say hello to your father for me.”

His body was so damaged, the shot barely hurt. A sudden wet pressure that punched the air from him as warm spilled between his fingers. He didn’t even have a chance to cry out, curled on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse and looking up at the roof that had rotted away to show patches of the dark, cloudy Christmas sky. It had just started to snow. A flurry of bright white breezed in through the holes, settling around him and melting as the landed in the spreading pool of blood. Something beautiful and delicate wiped away in an instant.

_How had it come to this?_

He was dying with not a bullet left in his pistol and a full flask. Maybe it was fate. His father had gone out in almost the same way, but his flask had been empty, and he’d only needed one bullet. Stiles had hoped that it would be a long time before he saw him again, but at least, he knew it would be warm where he was going.

Stiles could have been smarter. If he’d been any kind of detective, he would have seen this coming instead of tripping and stumbling his way to a cold grave. He should have known that his foe wouldn’t act alone. The grass was full of snakes, but Stiles had thought he was too tough to bite. He hadn’t seen it coming, any of it, but Stiles had wanted to fall. He’d thought there would be someone there to catch him.

He was always a sucker for a pretty face.

The warmth of that smile slipped away as he closed his eyes, hearing nothing but the slowing beat of his pulse in his ears. The breath rattled in his chest, quiet gasping puffs of white as the world faded into nothing. A washed-up drunken failure, it was all he would ever be.

He was going to die alone.

“I know you’re awake, Stiles."

With a quiet groan, the detective blinked open swollen eyes and winced at the bright light. It took him too long to focus on the face that swam in and out of his vision, but he could always recognize that impatient frown. “Malia?”

“Got it in one, bub.” Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen her out of a trench coat, but there the detective was, in civilian clothing with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette between her lips. If this was Heaven, Stiles wasn’t sure he’d consider himself disappointed. He definitely wasn’t going to see Malia like that on mortal earth. “Wow, they weren’t kidding about the good stuff.”

“Huh?” Though that explained the bandages around his head. Any tighter, and Stiles feared they’d pop his head like a grape.

“You’re staring, Stiles.”

She didn’t sound angry. It was a friggin miracle. Stiles made a face, and slowly the unmistakable signs of a hospital ward settled into view. It was almost enough for Stiles to wish he was dead. “How’d I get here?”

“I was mostly looking for a ‘thanks for saving my ass,’ but that’ll do, too.” Malia tapped off the extra ashes on her stick and handed him a glass of water. His body didn’t protest too much when Stiles moved to claim it. “Try not to move so much. You might not remember it, but you were shot, and it wasn’t pretty.”

Stiles snorted. It was a helplessly fond sound, but he could offer his savior that much. “You had a tail on me. Dammit, how’d you do that?”

The detective took a long drag of her cigarette, the corners of her mouth curling into a smug smirk, the sort she only reserved for when she knew something no one else did. “Actually, I got a hot tip from a good friend of yours. Scott McCall, ever heard of him?”

Stiles spilled water down his shirt.

“Scott? You know Scott?!”

“How the hell do you think we found you in time?” Malia said with a snort, grabbing a towel and mopping up Stiles’s soggy front. “He called the station and asked for me by name. I’ve never seen anything like it. By the time we got there, he’d taken down Raeken and three huge guys all by himself. Damn near beat them to death, I was surprised he didn’t just kill them. He kept you from bleeding out until the ambulance arrived.”

Scott…his Scott, how could he have ever doubted? Even at the very end, he’d been acting so skillfully that Theo had never seen it coming.  Scott had faced down the monster he’d been terrified to confront. Theo had sent him running for freedom, but when it came to Stiles, he had fought like a wild animal to protect him. A fragile, exhilarating feeling bloomed in his chest, something new that threatened to either send him off in hysterical laughter or in broken sobs.

“Where is he?”

Malia stubbed out her cigarette and shrugged. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. He gave us a basic rundown of what happened and followed the ambulance back to the hospital, but he gave us the slip before we could take him downtown for his statement. We’ve got questions for him, Stiles. If you see him, you need to call me.”

Stiles gave a weak nod that Malia didn’t buy for a minute. “And Raeken?”

“Booked and processed. Your little friend gave us a notebook of all of Theo’s illegal dealings, he said you were the one who found it. Theo won’t be seeing the light of day again for decades, if he even gets out of the hospital.” She sighed, the tough cop act slipping for just a minute as she patted his shoulder. “We’ve got him, for real this time. I couldn’t think of a better Christmas present.”

“A Christmas miracle.” Stiles corrected, and even when he was exhausted and aching and just a little light-headed on his medication, he could still sound infuriatingly smug. Malia laughed and gave him a one-armed hug before punching him in the shoulder. Stiles counted himself lucky.

He’d never been more motivated to get out of bed. The cops hadn’t found Scott, but they had no idea who they were dealing with. Stiles was the only one who could, and Scott would be so happy to see him! Except every time he moved, his everything protested. Malia assigned a uniform to his room to keep the vultures away, and Stiles silently thanked her for it. As much as he was looking forward to seeing his name splashed across the front page, he had more important things to deal with, like trying to walk five steps without doubling over. Reporters would have to wait. 

He snuck out as soon as he could walk. By then he was more sick with cabin fever than anything else, and then had to go back with his police escort because he didn’t have any money for the cab. That was all right. Officer Dunbar wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he was eager to meet the man who took down Theo Raeken single-handed. (He was also uninterested in hearing Stiles’s involvement in the case. Rude brat.) However, when they got to Scott’s apartment in Lower Manhattan, it was cleared out. Underneath the loose floor board, all Stiles found was a worn pack of cards. Everything hurt that much more.

Scott had fought for him. More than that, Scott had saved his life, but Stiles treacherous mind wound back to the moment Scott found the Wolf’s Heart in his hands. He wondered if he’d already missed his chance to say goodbye.

“Come on, Mr. Stilinski. We have to go.” Dunbar murmured, patting his arm nervously.

Even with Stiles protesting loudly (and he always thought of himself as a champion complainer), he was trapped at the hospital for the next few days to heal. Christmas came and went, though with Malia at his side, the celebration wasn’t quite as bleak as he was expecting. Still, he caught himself wondering about the man with the bright smile and the quick laugh who had become an unexpected friend in the days they’d spent together. Stiles felt like he’d been able to see something of the real Scott behind the walls he kept up to protect himself, maybe he’d been the only one who ever had.

Snow blanketed the city, burying New York in crisp white that glittered under the cold winter sun. It looked deceptively peaceful, the dingy streets swept clean with new unspoiled possibilities. With Theo locked up tight, there was a chance for something better now. Stiles knew that it wouldn’t be long before another charming, arrogant son-of-a-bitch with a lust of misery filled the void, but for now, there was hope.

The days crawled by and Stiles’s apartment felt too small, the walls caving in around him with silent, lonely boredom. He was never the most patient man, even less when he was cranky and in pain. Stiles made his way slowly back to his office. There weren’t cases to work on, but at least he could feel like he was doing _something_ instead of wasting away as a useless lump alone. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and stood at his window, watching the New Year’s fireworks burst over the city in glittering gems. With a sigh and a whispered curse, he saluted with his drink. _And a happy fucking New Year._

The door behind him creaked open and Stiles didn’t even bother to turn around. “We’re closed.”

“I won’t take long.”

Stiles nearly dropped his glass. In his doorway stood Scott McCall. His clothes were disheveled, and hair was tucked under a drooping hat. He was stripped of all the glitz and glam that had once opened so many doors, but there was no mistaking those dark doe eyes. He approached slowly, unsure if he was welcome, and the door closed behind him with a quiet snap.

“What are you doing here?”  It took Stiles too long to find his voice. He hadn’t realized he’d taken a step forward until Scott froze. In the dim light, the dip of his throat peaking out from under his collar looked so much deeper, and Stiles had to drag his eyes away.

“I-” Scott started, but stopped himself, features creased with worry, but for once the silver-tongued siren had nothing to say. His shoulders drooped, and he spoke with the pensiveness of a man at the confessional. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Yet he reached into his pocket and pulled out an item wrapped in cloth. All it took was a quick flick to reveal the bright edges of the one and only Wolf’s Heart.

“And to give this back. I don’t think I’ll be needing it.”

“Scott…” Stiles thunked his glass down and took a shaky step forward.

Scott plunged ahead as if afraid of what Stiles was going to say, tripping over his feet and his words to explain. He set the diamond on the desk where it shone in the faint light, catching each colored gleam from the fireworks outside of the window and fracturing them in arcing rainbows across the scuffed wood.

“I promised to pay you and it’s all I’ve got. After everything Theo did to you, you’ve more than earned your fee. I-I, I shouldn’t have let him get so close to you. I saw the ledger in his pocket when he reached for the diamond and I thought I could get it away from him. I could have stopped this.” Scott took another step forward and Stiles lunged for him, ignoring the way his stomach lanced with pain at the sudden movement.

Stiles pulled Scott into his arms, silencing the guilt-laden speech with a kiss hard enough to leave the other man breathless. “Are you kidding me? You saved my life. You saved everyone, Scott! I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I should have known…” His fingers worried the waistband of Scott’s pants, keeping him close in case the singer decided to bolt.

“You thought I would go back to him?”

“I was an idiot.” Stiles insisted, and quietly promised that Scott would never sound as broken as he did right now. The singer inhaled sharply but leaned into Stiles’s grasp, resting his head against his shoulder, and Stiles missed him so much. It hit him like a ton of bricks, as solid as a fist to the gut, and Stiles couldn’t believe he’d let Scott go for so long. “Where were you? I… I looked for you, and you were gone.”

Scott shrugged tiredly, trying to commit this moment to memory. He couldn’t know if it would be his last. He’d been granted absolution in a blink, and he could scarcely believe it. It had been so hard to keep running. He’d fought to stay ahead of the police, and all of the vultures who circled Theo. His former boss had barely warmed his cell, but there were already contenders interested in claiming his territory. The truth was never silenced for long, and rumors of Scott’s involvement had crept up like weeds. His favorite one was that he kept Theo’s head on display in his bedroom.

“I don’t trusts the cops.” There was a world of history in five words that Stiles had been granted a peek. “They had it out for me, and I don’t…”

He’d only trusted Detective Tate on Stiles’s recommendation. He couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t want him to rot in prison beside his old boss, too.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question, Stiles knew the answer before he even asked. He could see it in the way Scott held himself, so ready to just disappear out into the darkness of the city and let it swallow him. If it wasn’t for this moment, he would have already been gone and Stiles would never have seen him again. The bright light that was Scott McCall, the same charisma and charm that had brought the powerful to their knees and kept them captivated while they worshiped him on stage, snuffed out in anonymity.

“I can’t stay, Stiles. There’s too much here of what I used to be and I’m not that person. I don’t know how to start over with all of it hanging over my head. I have to start over where no one knows me and figure out how to rebuild.” Scott knew he should pull away. Coming back to say goodbye was a mistake, but he couldn’t leave without seeing Stiles one last time. One last goodbye, a better final memory of Stiles whole and safe.

“You don’t have to go.” Stiles said, always obstinate. “You could stay.”

Scott laughed softly, a small breath of air passed between the smallest spaces between them. He could lean forward and fall forever, but it was a frightening step. “How can I stay? I’ve got nothing.”

“You’ve got _me!_ ” Stiles poked his finger into Scott’s chest hard enough to hurt. “I know you could do better, but you’ve still got me. And I’ve got a detective agency that was always meant for two. You’re smart, Scott. You’re strong, you’re brave, I could use your help.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a price on my head. I’ll get you in trouble.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to, doll face? I think you mean, I would get you in trouble,” Stiles teased, even if none of it was a joke. He was used to running head into danger, and he could count on one hand how many people would show up at his funeral. Yet Scott had been right. Having someone to watch your back made a world of difference, and Scott had had his, even when Stiles stopped believing in him. “Please, Scott… You came back here for a reason, and if you wanted to give back the rock, you could’ve sent it with a post card.”

He had been prepared to walk away, cut all ties and start again, but that didn’t mean Scott wasn’t hoping to be convinced otherwise. The easy choice didn’t mean it was the right one, since when had anything in his life been easy? “I should go.” He said, making no move to pull away. There were other ways to start over again. He had been planning on running for so long that it was hard to think there was another choice left for him. If he left the city, he’d have nothing but if he stayed, he would have a friend. Maybe something more.  _Maybe_.

“You know, most people would do their best to avoid things that cause trouble instead of inviting it to stay. You’re not very smart, detective. An attitude like that could get you hurt, you might need someone to watch your back.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve got a guy in mind to watch my back.” Stiles’s smile faltered. Ever so carefully, he cupped Scott’s cheek, tracing his thumb across its curve. His heart was beating too fast, like it was trying to break out of his ribs, but for the first time since Scott had shown up in his office, Stiles thought he would stay. “What do you say? The hours are long. The work’s lousy, and the pay doesn’t exist, but it gets better if you have someone to watch your back.”

Scott laughed at him, and the sound warmed him all the way to his toes. Looking up at Stiles through his long lashes, equal parts brave and reckless, he confessed, “The last time I had someone watch my back, it ended up pretty well.”

“Stilinski and McCall.”

“Delgado.” Scott corrected gently. “McCall hasn’t been working for me for a long time, I thought I could try something new… It was my Mom’s name.”

Stiles wondered if Scott ever got the chance to go back for her picture, the one that was dog-eared in the corner, where she was smiling so much like her son. “Stilinski and Delgado, I could get used to that.”

“Delgado and Stilinski.” Scott suggested. Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off briskly. “Hear me out.”

Then Scott pulled Stiles in by his collar and kissed him until he saw stars. Outside, New York cheered as the ball dropped in Times Square to welcome the new year and new hopes.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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